Fiercest of Minds
by Highend
Summary: K/S; very slow building. Kirk doesn't have a thing coming for him anywhere else, but he isn't going anywhere there. He might as well take whatever clean slate is offered to him.
1. Prologue

**disclaimer: **I do not own Star Trek, I only take the characters out for a spin when I get muse.

**warnings: **Language, OOC-ness, sexual things, and more. Rating might/will go up in later chapters.

* * *

_Breep. Breep. Breep._

He fumbled in a sleep induced haze, feeling the smooth of foreign, polished wood, and the curve of the plastic. Finding the switch he pressed down on it, effectively silencing the annoying sound coming from the alarm clock. Kirk rolled back over onto his back, the heavy weight of the comforter making the movement noisy, and stared at the blank ceiling. A heavy sigh passed through his lips as he wondered why he was still there, still there being a hazard to his mother.

A mother that could barely look at her son without thinking of her late husband, or bursting out into tears. There were the rare glimpses of pride in that face, proud that she was at least raising her son. But it was usually disgust. Accusing eyes latching onto his, laying the message down for all to see.

He could hear her voice now, laced with a sorrowful venom, she just couldn't help it.

_How dare you_, the sweet face would say, time slowing to make it all that worse, _how dare you waste the life your father risked his life. How dare you disgrace his name._

Kirk? In turn he would just smile a carefree smile, maybe laugh in that accusatory face. Get looks of disgust from anyone nearby who could read the silent signals between mother and son. Once, once, someone had voiced their thoughts aloud. They had said he was apart of the _trash of the human race_. The lowest of the low.

And he. He had _laughed_.

It was ingrained into his body, his mind, the people around him's minds. It was how Kirk was. He was never anything but a troublemaker, scum. There would never be anything different to him. Even if it was getting old, even if they couldn't stand to look at him, hear his voice, hear about him in the local gossip mill, he hardly changed. Perhaps got more devious, more raucous, but it was never any different if you stripped it down to the basics.

It was old. Change was in order, for all sides of the conflict. But it felt as if he couldn't change.

Like he would be breaking some age old law that this was all James T. Kirk was to be.

A low life.

"Jim?"

He turned towards the tentative, light voice of his mother, surprise barely showing at the lack of hidden scorn in her voice. She sounded reserved, like she had finally given up on her son. That he was never going to be anything but a cheap imitation of the real thing. He wasn't his father.

He tried not to sound cautious. "Yes, mum?"

"Are... are you going to the new bar in the outskirts? That space-y... themed one?" Oh. That's what it was. It was always like this when a new bar opened up. His mother would act different, he would be strangely forlorn, but he would go to the bar anyways, drink, and get into a fight. Because that's what Kirk did.

"Of course, mum," he answered, trying not to sound reprimanding, but failing. Why would it be any different than usual?

"Oh." Was that a smile he saw creeping onto her face? It was gone as soon as he had noticed it, the resigned look returning. But suddenly it seemed fake, forcibly fake. "Have fun."

The door clicked shut, creaking as it went. "Sure."

He groaned, rolling out of bed, and trudged towards the bathroom connected to his room. Bare feet dragging across the worn cream color carpet, then onto cold tile. Setting the shower to a reasonably cold temperature, stripping and then stepping in. He shivered, goosebumps crawling along his bare skin, but he adamantly refused to leave the refreshing cold.

Kirk had to wash away whatever was occupying his body now, wash it away, so that it was Kirk there. Just Kirk. No one else then what he was supposed to be. Nothing. Scrub away the remains of that groggy being that had little self confidence. Wash away that peaceful thing. That soft-bellied creature. Scrape it from his mind.

There, clean. He stepped out of the shower when it got cold, making sure to turn it off this time, and grabbed a blue towel. Drying himself off as he rummaged through his closet, intent on finding an outfit that didn't have traces of dried blood on it. Finding the perfect one, with one last look in the mirror to make he sure he looked good, he headed down the stairs.

"You sure this will work, Christopher?"

He froze. A deer in the headlights. Oh _god_. Who was Christopher? One of his mother's many adventures? Kirk vaguely remembered hearing the name before, but it slipped his mind. _Must have been when mum was in one of her moods_, he surmised, tuning into her conversation the best he could.

But he had arrived at the end of her conversation. "Alright, I believe you Christopher, just... you know. Bye."

She hung the phone up just in time to see Kirk finish his descent, an odd twinkle in her eyes. Having always been someone who was good at reading people he knew, he saw it as a 'I-know-something-you-don't' twinkle. "I'm going now, mum," he told her when he reached the door, and almost halfway out he got her reply.

"Have fun."

He didn't reply this time, just got on his way.

-

"Hey, handsome," a pretty brunette approached him, blinking her heavily mascaraed eyes in his direction, even darker eyes framed with blue eyeshadow. How she thought _that_ was attractive on a brunette, or attractive at all, he didn't know. All he knew was that Kirk had a reputation to uphold.

Kirk smiled, not a genuine smile, but he doubted the girl knew that. "Really? You flatter me too much, beautiful." Inwardly he winced at that, but it was best to play the inexperienced flirt right back at her. Get what you try for. Brunette looked mildly insulted at that, but she was smarter than she looked. She caught on quick, that one.

Brunette fidgeted with the edge of her already short miniskirt, _oh she knew what she was doing_, letting the skimpy fabric travel up her thigh, revealing that all she wore beneath was a _very_ small thong. It hid nothing, really, but showed everything. The smile on Kirk's face grew, and Brunette slid onto his lap, pressing her hands on chest, carefully squeezing her chest together so it spilled out over the thin tank top she wore. Fingers trailing up Kirk's neck, pausing at his ear, then Brunette leaned forward.

Lips met. Teeth clashed together, tongues slithered across each other, across cheeks, along the backs of teeth. Messy, taking in the taste of alcohol that lingered in both mouths. Faint breaks to take in the minimal amount of air, fingers roaming, hands grabbing and groping. People in all kinds of equally compromising positions doing their business just because they could. Air heavy with the sexual tension hanging about, gathering and setting. Purposely setting the mood for others.

"_Star Fleet_," someone heaved breathlessly, and suddenly all of that was gone.

"Uh, oh." Brunette crawled off of his lap, smoothed her hair, and headed towards the restroom. Looked like her boyfriend was amongst the red uniformed group of twenty or so. _She didn't want to be seen with a lowlife_, Kirk decided, _huh. Thanks. _Leaning back in his chair, he surveyed the new occupants of the bar. The majority of the reds were male, a major bummer, 'cause the skirts on the female uniforms were way short.

"Ugh," someone to his left groaned, "The reds always get the good ones."

"Always?" another asked.

"Yup, always. Surprised blondie hasn't gone after the red at the bar."

Red at the bar? Now that he was looking, she did look like a nice piece of ass. Grinning he walked over to the bar, ordered a drink for the both of them, and the bartender just gave him a look that said 'you're getting yourself into trouble, boy.' Kirk was tempted to stick his tongue out at the bartender, but he was too busy talking with the red.

"That's my last name," she said, laughing.

Oh? Well then. "Sooo, they don't have first names on your planet?"

He didn't remember much after that, just disinterest, not really being there. Perhaps the odd look of pity here and there, but he just wasn't there until the first punch flew. Got him good in the face, and when he swung back at the attacking red, finding a table beneath his back. Angry words flung in his face, flying right over his head. Making few retaliations, just letting the punches and the occasional kick hit him. Voices. Yelling, angry words. A commanding tone.

_Put him down_.

_Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes._

_Dare you to do better._

_Space is a disease and danger wrapped in the darkness and silence._

"Clean slate," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothin', Bones, nothing."

* * *

**a/n: **Whoop. Yeah. Right. Okay. Prologue's done. Had to add that one part from the movie with a little more flair as the beginning. It just fit with my idea. Why? No idea. Just did. And, and I'd like to add that that is the only time I'll be putting up the disclaimer and warnings. Unless of course, something truly horrid shows up. But I doubt that. There are limits to what I can write well. There will be the odd author's note up there, but most likely just down here. c:

Btw, I like it when Kirk is actually smart and serious sometimes. And slightly faking.

And yes, I can actually write serious things. u.u"

Review please. Because reviewing is my pay.

And it only takes three seconds if you don't like to type a lot.

Three seconds = a review/my pay.

So pay me. Please.


	2. Missions and Mysteries

"You're late," Leonard McCoy pointed out, voice low as Kirk slid into his seat besides his friend. Kirk made an incoherent sound, and shrug his shoulders in a loose, relaxed manner; as if he weren't late to one of his favorite classes. It was also one of the few they shared, where every other week they would hold a simulation of a mission on a ship. Be it star, cargo, passenger, or anything in between, the instructor had some sort of personal grudge against Kirk. Everyone else had gotten to be the 'captain' except Kirk- twice. "And you know, they're watching you."

Sometimes McCoy was altogether paranoid, but this wasn't the case. Instructors, professors, they all seemed to be the only ones who realized that he was the son of god damned hero, and seemed to expect something similar out of him. Which was, of course, slightly, a stupid thing to want. "Yeah, Bones, yeah, I know."

"You're late, Mr. Kirk!"

McCoy gave him an apologetic look, but Kirk shrugged it off, and smiled back at the instructor. "Well yes, thank you, Bones already informed me of this."

The instructor, a tall man with a tiny mustache, snarled at that, visibly taking the sarcastic tone of the cadet to heart. "Don't get smart with my boy, you'll be sitting out of today's simulation, unless you'd like to be the prisoner?"

"I'd rather sit out, thanks," Kirk muttered with a shrug, leaning back in his chair. He tuned out the voice of the instructor, who was telling them what they heard every day of their 'fleet lives so far. Be good, follow the rules and regulations as according to the situation, fill out paperwork, do your duty first, and so on so forth. It was all very dull, and even the simulation turned out to be less than stellar. Delivering a cargo ship full of prisoners to a starbase orbiting some green planet. He had forgotten the name, but it seemed a lot more boring than sitting there, watching them go through with the sim.

Well they programmed it to have the occasional prisoner outbreak, but nothing to severe. If they made it too real, someone might run out crying. Kirk groaned his boredom aloud, and watched half lidded as the cargo ship docked the starbase, and mission complete flashed across the screens. Yippee! Another virtual world saved from the harmless virtual criminals, oh joy. Thankfully, he would be spared the ongoing boredom, as this was his last class for the day. In short; freedom. McCoy would also be free, but they had nothing to do.

"As you all shouldn't know," that got Kirk's attention just as McCoy took his seat again, "There is a new requirement for the course, one that everyone was to be informed of today. Sometime in the next two months you, and a friend, should get together with a professor or senior officer for a little 'field day'. This can be anywhere of the professor/senior officer's choice, and should be adequate simulation of exploring a planet yet unexplored. There should be proof you underwent the assignment, so if I ask that professor or senior officer they should be able to say 'Yeah Jack, I went with soandso to this place and they,'" the oaf gestured with his hands wildly, "Well, you get the point. Class dismissed."

Kirk and McCoy were halfway to their shared quarters when McCoy started going on about something he heard from the rumor mill. "So listen Jim, there's this new prof', advanced computer technologies, I believe that redhead said, maybe since he doesn't know you, shouldn't hate'cha like the rest of the instructors, we could ask him?"

Kirk was skeptical about that. "Hate travels real fast through the professors, you know what its like Bones, he probably hates me already."

"Eh, but I heard he was Vulcan, and they're notorious for _not hating_, nonviolence, peace, all that jazz. Logic, ya'know," McCoy continued as if Kirk hadn't even said anything, "So _logically_ he's not gonna hate'cha when he doesn't know you."

"Bones," Kirk sighed, astounded and amused by McCoy's suggestion, "If you want to try, go ahead. I'm not stopping you, and if its a success, sure, I'll go with you, but this is one assignment that's probably been designed so I specifically fail it."

"Such optimism."

"Yep, that's me, the brightest of the bunch."

There was a steady silence after that as they headed down the hall, weaving in and out of the mingling cadets, and finally making their way to their shared quarters, slipping inside. When they entered, Kirk made scene of flinging himself onto the bed, muttering something about 'sweet, sweet comfort'. McCoy shook his head, and made his way towards his closet, already the uniform they had to wear was pissing him off and he was changing into civilian clothes. A nice white shirt, brown leather jacket, and some jeans would do nicely.

Once changed, he turned to stare at Kirk, who seemed to be taking a nap. "Jim?" he tried, then shook his friend's shoulders lightly, "Jim? Jim. Jim. Damn he's out like a light. Heavy sleeper. I envy the guy who can wake him up- or the alarm clock that can."

Shuffling about, he collected what he needed, and scribbled a note for Kirk and placed it on the door. "Hopefully he isn't awake when I get back."

-

Kirk groaned, stirred in his sleep, and was completely immersed in the strange, distorted dream that occupied his mind. Later he wouldn't be able to place what it was about, just that it was weird, but dreams tended to be like that. It was sort of jarring to wake up, on a nice warm bed, and then suddenly on the cold, hard unforgiving floor. Groaning, he sat up groggily, but was suddenly aware that he was the only one in the room. Standing up quickly, slightly weak in the knees from being down so long, a quick scan of the room told him that yes, McCoy was gone off doing something strange.

"Well, at least he left a note this time," he grumbled to himself, pulling the yellow sticky-note off of the door, giving it a once over before saying the message aloud, as if it hadn't sunk in yet, "'Going to find more information about our mysterious professor, don't do anything stupid.'"

McCoy just couldn't led it go, could he? He was worse than a mother hen sometimes, taking it upon himself to make sure Kirk was actually doing the work, even if he knew Kirk already knew the things being taught. It had shocked, and disturbed McCoy how much effort Kirk put into the first month of 'fleet academy, learning as much as possible, being far ahead in the classes than anyone could ever suspect from someone who acted as dumb, and trouble making as Kirk. 'The most underachieving overachiever I have ever seen,' McCoy had once said, giving it a resolute nod in finality.

Kirk had just flopped back down onto his bed when McCoy came bustling in, staring at the not so awake, but awake Kirk. "I see it hasn't settled in yet, has it?"

"Nah, it has," was the reply.

"Well! Don't'cha wanna know what I know?" McCoy asked, putting a suspenseful edge into his tone.

"You're going to tell me anyways, Bones, you usually do."

"True that," McCoy agreed, starting the information relaying, "So our mysterious prof' is also a senior officer, a new senior officer, but he's been one for a bit. Definitely Vulcan, also heard he's half-human, but he is, for sure, a green-blooded pointy eared logical Vulcan. His name is 'Spock', and he declined an offer into the Vulcan Academy of Science to join 'fleet, so he's definitely one of the smarter Vulcan. And that's all I got."

"How did you manage to get all that? Vulcan is a very private species, you know," Kirk pointed out, skeptical.

McCoy just smiled, "I got my ways Jim, I got my ways."

"Oh god, you didn't sleep with a professor, did you!?"

"Where do you get an accusation like that Jim!?"

"_Well_, did you, or didn't you?"

"I did _not_ sleep with a professor, god, mind in the gutter much?"

"Sorry, but somehow that sounded about right," Kirk muttered, looking about ready to burst into laughter at the look on McCoy's face.

McCoy looked offended, "I don't sleep with anything that moves like you do, I have standards-"

"Of a slim figure that is most certainly female in the chest and the hips and the rest," Kirk interrupted, smiling.

Kirk burst out into laughter, and McCoy snorted.

"Dammit Jim," he muttered before dispersing into laughter himself.

* * *

**a/n; **Sorry it took a while, there's a sort of explanation down lower, but that's in general. There's actually a reason this took a while. I rewrote it. _Seven_ times. I was debating at whether having a chapter dedicated to Spock, but then I realized that didn't really fit the way I put the mood. Then I was going to do 'fleet academy orientation, and I even wrote a speech for it, but decided I didn't want to set that many standards for 'fleet academy. Then I started researched Star Fleet Academy, only to find there is _nothing_ on it. Nothing. At. All. Well there's a little bit, just a wee little bit. But mainly just actual 'fleet stuff. So it turns out I'm at a stump at what to do. So I have to get thinking of stuff they would do to prepare cadets for the world of space.

So in the end, I not only wrote the chapter, I planned out many classes, simulations, and a whole lot of other crap so I could actually write the story which is set during 'fleet academy, and have it actually be LIKE and academy. So thank me. I'm learning over summer break. Which defeats the purpose of a break. And takes away time from actually writing the story out of the little time I have. I want this story to be as good as I can make it, maybe even better. So I'm carefully planning things out.

Replies to Reviews (sorta);

Well firstly I'm glad people like me liking of taking it slow. C: I mean, it's probably going to be really slow. Sure, there might be a thing here or there, but hey, it won't be big.

I only wanted to do the mom-conspiracy thing, because that's what my mom tends to do. Yeesh. Save me? Plz? D:

Aw, you guys are so sweet. I love you already. C;

P.S. I don't update that quickly, yeah, seriously. 'Cause my minds already on the sequel- wth mind. Wth. So yeah, I have to stop it from getting way way too ahead of me. Also, I'm kinda short on time to actually write a story. D: Stupid camps, and stupid Missouri (er, no 'fence if you're from Missouri). I also keep getting ideas for oneshots here and there, which I jot down on my handy dandy notebook (blue's clues, much?).

In the tradition I seem to be going with, review = pay, so pay me, please? ;D


	3. It Started with a Stomach

a/n; I figured out what went wrong with me in my whole "writers block" moments. You see, I was listening to music when I wrote the prologue, but not the first chapter. Apparently listening to music helps me write better, and longer. Hence this is more of a chapter than the first chapter. But I'm not saying there will be predetermined or set lengths. I'm a go-as-it-comes/go-with-the-flow kind of person. What I write that seems to end well, is what I write for that chapter.

OK. Enough from me. Enjoy~

* * *

He took deep breaths, as he had been told to many times til the speakers were red in the face, laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, recovering from the bout of laughter he had induced by insulting McCoy, the man himself also recovering from laughter. Moments passed, stretched thin by the lack of air, until laughter dissolved in coughing, and then dead breaths as they lay, clutching their stomachs, topic momentarily forgotten. Gone were the idea, the concept of hate for the briefest of moments, gone, and then slowly it crept back up from the depths it dwelt. Silence settled in a heavy blanket, and they were unwilling to break it, given that neither really knew what to say after that.

"It isn't like it'll hurt to try."

Kirk sighed, sitting up to look at McCoy, who had a serious expression on his face. Stone cold sober. They would have to fix that later, but for now his stomach was rumbling. It hurt with the emptiness, constricting, trying to digest nothing, and so was tight and small. Voicing his predicament made McCoy stand up, and state that they were going to get some food _now_. Hand reaching out, grabbing his arm, and dragging Kirk up from the bed, and towards the door left the world spinning for a few moments. Colors swirled together for a whirlwind effect, blurring, faces unrecognizable for moments, and suddenly they stopped walking.

"Outta my way, Mitchell."

As the spinning halted, things became clear, and Kirk found that McCoy was glaring heatedly at a rather vicious pack of cadets that they knew all to well. The 'alpha' of the pack started to chuckle, and his lackeys joined in in a more nervous manner. The glaring and laughter went on for about twenty more seconds, before Mitchell, the alpha of the pack, stopped the laughter with a motion of his hand, directing his gaze on Kirk, in an almost hungry manner. His lackeys were silent, but they looked nervous, for a reason. Kirk and McCoy were rather notorious in a fight, mostly Kirk, but McCoy could pull his own weight when needed.

"And, what if I don't?" Mitchell was pretty cocky for someone who was about to get his ass kicked, but the guy really did have a lot of back up, considering he was about as well liked as Kirk was. But only because Mitchell liked to show people who was boss, unlike Kirk, who only got into a fight when he didn't start it. Normally.

"Well," Kirk butted in, having regained control of the majority of his senses, "First things first, you'd get your ass kicked needlessly, second, you'll be humiliated of you don't."

A few of the lackeys began to back away at that, no need to get on the bad side of Kirk, leave Mitchell to his own devices, it was his problem, not theirs. They weren't going to risk their hides for one of the worse of 'fleet academy over a petty hall fight. Oh no, they weren't going to risk their careers on the little brawls that Mitchell and Kirk enjoyed ever so much. It just wasn't it worth it.

"Ha," snorted Mitchell, "Well, let's see, shall we? Get 'em."

A few punches were thrown before the gathering crowd thickened into an actual uproar of cheering onlookers, none really rooting for either side, but just screaming the traditional chant, enjoying the violence. It was an all out brawl by the time someone with authority arrived on the scene, Kirk having several bruises and sprains, staying low, avoiding the sweeping bunches of Mitchell, who was red in the face with anger. The lackeys made a ring around the fight, every now and then stepping in and attacking McCoy or Kirk, but never really doing anything. They were there to prevent someone from interrupting the fight. But someone did manage to interrupt it.

Just when Mitchell managed to get a strike to Kirk's face, sending him to stumbling on the floor, a clean, loud voice cut through the din. "Cease this violence at once!" And it ceased, considering several instructors made their way into the chaos, grabbing whoever was in the actual ring; Kirk, McCoy, Mitchell, and two of Mitchell's lackeys. "Get, get, _get_!" one of the instructors roared at the crowd, which quickly dispersed, as they lead the culprits towards an empty classroom.

Sitting the five troublemakers down, they turned when someone else entered the classroom, tense, but relaxed when they saw who it was. McCoy's eyes suddenly widened, and he whispered to Kirk, who appeared to be fuming, "Dammit Jim, that's _Spock_, now he probably hates you and won't help our cause."

The only sign that Kirk heard was the slight raising of his head, and his fingers curling tighter together, and perhaps the slightest biting of his lower lip. Mitchell was sending a glare at Kirk, mouthing that Kirk was _so_ dead the next time they got into a fight. So, so, so dead.

"Explain, cadet," the cool voice interrupted the little scene, the professor having stopped before Kirk, dark eyes staring, well, darkly at him.

Kirk looked up at that, the motion jerky in comparison, eyes slightly wider around the edges, an unspoken question floating over their heads. _Why the hell're you asking Kirk? He'll be lying about it, whatever he says, its Kirk's fault. It always is. _Taking a second to take in the Vulcan features of the new professor- pointed ears, standard Vulcan hairstyle, dark hair, pale skin tinged the slightest green, stoic face- Kirk took a second to mentally recount the incident.

"Well, Bones," he started, but at the questioning eyebrow, he gestured towards McCoy, "Was taking me down to the cafeteria, because I was real hungry, and needed to eat something before I fainted. _Gary_ here and his lackeys decided that they were going to block our path and provoke us. It was _Gary_ who threw the fist punch, hit me in my shoulder, and I reacted in self-defense, as did Bones, 'cause there were about ten other lackeys besides those two. Most of 'em bailed, but those twelve stuck around. And then we fought, and then you showed up and stopped it, and here we are. That's the condensed version, I don't want to take up, too much of your time."

Then it was McCoy's turn to tell the story from his point of view, not much difference, except the inclusion that Kirk's judgment had been slightly impaired because he got grouchy when he hadn't eaten anything decent in a while. Mitchell told his side, which was, obviously, much different than Kirk and McCoy's. The lackeys went and theirs were similar to Kirk and McCoy's, not including the parts before the start of the confrontation; they hadn't been in the room with the two friends.

Spock nodded, and turned towards the instructors who had been sending accusatory glares at Kirk as if to say, 'well see, he isn't to blame, now is he?' While the instructors and the Vulcan began to discuss the punishments for the offenders, McCoy had turned to Kirk with a giddy expression on his face. Realizing what the expression was about, Kirk let his own goofy, crooked grin spread across his face, sharing the elation of his friend.

"God, Jim, are we lucky or what?" McCoy whispered, sounding breathless, worn about from the fight, but also partly from the fact that there was one professor that seemed to be on their side.

"I would have to say we are Bones, you're right, it couldn't hurt to ask, well now it won't, much," was the reply, something mischievous in his tone, head turning to stare at the group as they came to their authoritative decision.

It was one of the instructors who stated the decision, sounding displeased about it, but saying it nonetheless, "Mitchell and his... 'lackeys' will be suspended for the remainder of the month, and kept under constant supervision for the rest of their time in 'fleet academy, unless they can prove themselves trustworthy again. As for you two," he continued, focusing on Kirk and McCoy, "You two will have to have your 'field day' project under Professor Spock's supervision, consider yourselves lucky, now get out of here, we have a lot to discuss with these troublemakers."

Kirk and McCoy both left, with pseudo soberness on their faces until they were out of the room and the door was closed. Upon the click of the closed door, Kirk shouted, "Bones, are we the luckiest to men in the world or what!?"

"Well no, not the luckiest, but pretty darn close."

They shared a laugh.

-

With his stomach full, and mood considerably better, Kirk listened to McCoy's ramblings in medical jargon about the newest cure for some form of influenza with a smile and a nod here and there. Sometimes McCoy just needed to talk and babble about the things he learned. But it was rather boring, and he was glad when a few of McCoy's buddies from the medical sect of the academy came over to discuss something. Informing McCoy that he was headed back to their room, he got a distracted nod as he stood and headed down the hall. He really didn't want to return to their quarters just yet, and he was at a loss at what to do. Sighing, he decided to wander around, lost in the emptiness of his mind.

"Jim? Jim!"

He froze, spirit dropping into his full stomach to be digested along with his food. Oh _shit_, he thought, afraid to turn around and confirm his fears. He didn't really want to deal with the brunette at this moment, and ever since she joined 'fleet academy, having heard he had, she'd been following him around. Apparently she thought the one time at the bar had actually meant something to him, something more than a half-hearted fling.

"I was afraid I wasn't going to see you," she told him, a smile on her face, blinking at him.

Kirk hesitated, weighing his options before answering, "Hi Jamie."

"Hi? That's all I get? A 'hi'? I deserve more than that, Jim," she huffed, placing her hands on her hips, watching him carefully through narrowed eyes, watching him slowly back up.

Away from her.

"Well, what did you expect me to say, you're a stalker!" he hissed, exasperated with all this nonsense. It was too much for one day, but then again, he was used to keeping flings as far away as physically possible.

"I expect you to say 'Hi dear, nice to see you again', not 'hi'!" Jamie snapped, advancing towards him.

Now that was his cue to run, Kirk decided, and fled. Weaving in and out of people, trying to lose her in the crowd of cadets and the occasional visitor to the compound. It was hard, dammit, the girl was nearly as fast as he was. But he was confident in his abilities, so he _was_ going to outrun the furious female if it killed him. Which it probably was going to kill him, or at least severely damage his stomach, which was cramping because it was still full on food.

Looking for an escape route, he failed to notice the familiar face he was about to run into. When he did notice, it was too late to stop the collision course.

_Smack!_

Staring for a dazed moment at the Vulcan who was about to save his hide for the second time today, he quickly slipped behind the taller figure, whispering, "Sorry, but you're involved now." Just as Jamie approached, looking disappointed that the corridor was otherwise empty.

"Get over here and face me Jim!"

"No thanks, I like it just where I am," was the shaky reply, Kirk barely looking out from behind Spock, who had just stopped where he was standing, frozen.

"You can go on your way, professor, this is just a-"

"You're a freaking _stalker_, look Professor Spock, don't leave me here with her, please don't!" Kirk exclaimed, tugging on Spock's sleeve, exaggerating his point by unknowingly pouting, if only slightly.

Spock made a sound, "Miss Jamie, it appears that cadet Kirk does not appreciate your affections, it would be wise not to further this interaction. If you have been 'stalking' him, it is an offense and you could be expelled from the compound upon proof."

Jamie made an 'eep' sound, realizing that the professor was staying, and that Kirk wasn't moving. Well, and the fact that she knew both could beat her ass if she managed to push their buttons right away. That, and Spock made an intimidating figure. So she left, shouting, "You'll be sorry Jim, sorry!"

"Sorry my ass," Kirk muttered, scoffing, before turning to Spock who had turned around to regard him with a questioning eyebrow, "You're a life saver! Thank you, thank you! I'll live another day!"

"Your life was threatened by Miss Jamie?" Spock blinked.

"No, no, just," Kirk sighed, "It's an expression of gratitude, okay?"

"It is an interesting expression."

"Yeah, ok, um, I'll just be going now, bye," he said hurriedly, walking quickly away from the Vulcan.

Oh god, McCoy would just love to hear about this.

* * *

a/n; Aw. An anti-climactic chapter ending... I think that's how you would say it.

But more importantly- SPOCK FINALLY SHOWS UP. Yay. BD Ahaha. Finally. I was afraid I wasn't going to get around to it.

Uh well, that's all I have to say?

Review still equals pay. So pay me, please? :3


End file.
